Rain
by captainme
Summary: The sound of rain is hypnotic, and with the weight of the world pressing down against his shoulders Jack needs an escape. the most awful summery i think i've ever done. Janto!


Disclaimer; I own nothing except for a slight obsession with John Barrowman! ;)

Rain.

He was weary. So drained it amazed him that there was enough strength left within him to carry on walking. He could barely feel the rain pounding against his skin, soaking his clothes making them heavy, making it harder then what it already was to carry on walking. It was the rain that had drawn him out, caused him to use what little energy he had left within him to walk outside in the hope that he would be able to feel anything but the numbness that had consumed his life in the past… nine days, thirteen hours and oh, fifteen minutes. He had simply intended to stand, maybe sit if his legs couldn't hold him, out in the rain for a little while and yet here he was… walking.

He found himself back at the bay, back next to the hub, simply staring at the magnificent building that disguised their headquarters. Nine days, thirteen hours and twenty five minutes ago the team at Torchwood had their lives go to pieces. Within ten minutes of each other, they lost two members of their family. Since then they had had to muddle through, cleaning up the mess left behind, doing their best not to fall to pieces every five minutes. Gwen had found it the hardest not to keep crumbling, and in the end he had had to order her to take leave. Get away with Rhys. Grieve. Keep her life from drifting further then what it already had done. This left just two member of team Torchwood picking up the pieces of their shattered lives.

Ianto was coping well. Or at least, he did a good job of showing he was coping well. He was able to sleep, able to eat, able to function. He allowed himself to grieve just enough so that it didn't consume him and yet not enough to be considered healthy. He kept going.

Jack however, did not allow himself to grieve. He was barely eating, hadn't slept at all since it had happened but was able to put on a front of functioning and coping well. That was until this evening, when lying in the bed next to Ianto, his eyes had closed themselves without permission and suddenly he felt as though he could feel the weight of the earth pressing back down against his chest, suffocating him, choking him, consuming him. His eyes had snapped back open and he'd let out a strangled breath, gasping for air. That was when he had heard the rain and consequently found himself outside Ianto's flat feeling the cold water hitting his face.

To him, there was always something soothing about the rain. In moderation that is. The sound of it when it was all that could be heard was hypnotic and enticed him into a trance like state, something which he gladly welcomed. And that was how he had found himself standing outside their headquarters.

He barely made it to one of the benches in front of the water fountain before his legs gave way, refusing to hold him up any longer. He rested his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands and made the mistake of closing his eyes for just a second to long. It was back, the sensation of the earth pressing down against his chest, dirt in his mouth, ears, eyes, up his nose, choking him, mocking him. For the second time that evening he was gasping for breath, his chest heaving.

He had spent thousands of years buried beneath the soil. He had had an unimaginable amount of time to do nothing but think, die and come back to life. In that order. He had hoped that since he had so much time, that certain memories would be able to fade and he could focus on happier times. However, as always it's the ones he had wanted to disappear that had become all the more vivid. For reasons he couldn't quite decide on, three particular moments kept replaying over and over in his mind.

His childhood. The moment he let go of Grey's hand and his world came crashing down for the first time in his life.

The year that never was. For the year since then, he had managed to repress the memories and keep his mind active with other things. With nothing to distract him, his mind went back to that very dark place.

Nine days ago. How he felt it was entirely his fault. The guilt which consumed him and would threaten to suffocate him if the earth wasn't doing it for him.

And as exhaustion took over his body, his mind allowed these events back in, each replaying in front of his eyes in what felt like slow motion. Each detail excruciatingly vivid. He barely noticed as he toppled off the bench and broke down on floor, sobbing, gasping for breath and screaming as memories flashed before him. The recollection of the weight of dirt pressing down on him became too much and he felt sure he was about to slip out of this world again, even if it was only for a couple of minutes. To his disgust he found himself hoping, praying even that it would come. That he could have a couple of minutes of relief before being dragged back into the world of the living yet again.

Then suddenly the pressure on his chest relieved itself, the way it had when Torchwood 1900's had dug him up. The sound of the rain filled his ears, consumed his body just for a second before he realized there was something else there. Something whispering to him. No, not something, someone. Mumbling soothing syllables to him, entirely in Welsh. There were strong arms around him, cradling his broken body, hands stroking his hair and lips kissing his face.

Ianto.

Ianto. Always Ianto. To check that he was real and not just another figment of his imagination Jack mustered enough strength to reach up and pull the young man's head down to his own, pressing their lips together hard.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, when Jack closed his eyes he felt nothing but the warmth of Ianto's lips against his.


End file.
